Spit out the Bone (M)

[Shinsou Vaan Osiris]

The day had dawned brightly for Crennick Wilfhelm, director of operations within the Brotherhood of the Castigars. A red-hued sun rose over the eastern side of the island, and from the balcony of his Radasanthian suite the middle aged man surveyed the cityscape. Corone's jewel blossomed beautifully in autumn. Leaves scattered in the street and piled in golden mounds at the street's curbs. Children played in the mounds, throwing handfuls of the golden flecks into the morning sky. The men and women of the city went about their day in relative peace; each one of them, in his mind, mindful of the contribution the Brotherhood...his Brotherhood...had made to peace and prosperity in Radasanth.

In the month since Crennick's much celebrated extradition of Shinsou Vaan Osiris to the Telgradians who sought him, he and his faction had risen up the ranks and returned to the roots of their former glory, where years ago he'd served under the ruling council of the Brotherhood. That was before Shinsou Vaan Osiris and Storm Veritas had usurped the leadership, subverting the cause and setting back the work of the Castigar Council many years, in his eyes. The Iron General, they'd called him, and soon would again. Or perhaps he'd choose a different title... the Iron Regent, no, the Iron Emperor. It didn't matter. Once Storm Veritas was out of the picture, they would call him whatever he pleased.

Crennick swallowed a hearty mouthful of morning wine and placed the empty glass down on a fine teak tabletop. A woman, his aide, quietly walked over from the corner to refill his cup, her face drawn up in silent obedience. She had once belonged to Shinsou's entourage, whose manor Crennick had appropriated as his own shortly after the Telgradian's disappearance, and he'd kept the staff on to suit his needs. His greying eyes surveyed the serving girl's buttocks as she turned and walked back to the corner, eliciting a muffled acknowledgement from her mouth.

"See to it that I'm not disturbed for the morning. I am expecting company." The order was spoken softer than the sharpness of his glare would betray.

The Brotherhood general picked his teeth to remove a morsel left over from breakfast and examined his reflection in the mirror as the internal apartment door eventually banged open. A man strode in, followed by a musty smell that seemed to eminate from the library that he'd entered through. His heavy boots creaked the polished floorboards and thudded with an urgency that Crennick could not ignore. The jaded, stubble drawn face of the enforcer looked grim, with his face drawn down in a deep frown. His credentials were pinned to his chest in the form of a worn emblem.

"What?"

The large, muscular man pulled back a chair and dumped his heavy frame down in it. He spared a quick glance for the pretty serving girl in the corner and then cleared his throat and reached inside his leather jacket. A callused hand produced a folded piece of parchment and placed it on the table. The man slid the paper slowly across the teak surface, navigating a path between the platters containing the remnants of Crennicks's breakfast.

"This just arrived from Whitevale," The man said in his deep, harsh voice. He tugged at his thick beard and raked a hand through disheveled dark hair, eyes blazing like coals. "New orders," he muttered darkly.

Crennick picked up the paper and unfolded it, and after a brief glance at the tidy scrawl on the page sighed and snapped his fingers. The serving girl gasped and sprang into action, collecting a pair of half-moon spectacles from a nearby counter and presenting them to him with a half-hearted curtsy.

Director Wilfhelm,

It seems that some unforeseen developments have forced us to move ahead of schedule. As a result of this, I have decided to enact the Brotherhood Consolidation Act with immediate effect. On the day of receiving these orders, you will send half of your strength to Whitevale to attach to my personal guard. A day later, and not before, a convoy of wagons will collect your remaining men, personal effects and staff and you will be relocated to a position of strategic importance on the south of the island. Due to the high security involved in these logistics, I cannot tell you where you will be moved; only that you will be inconvenienced as little as possible for the duration.

Currently, operations are underway to remove Veritas from power. Be ready for any retalliation, and take every precaution. Use all of the resources at your disposal to ensure your security until your relocation.

Yours,
Arius

"You've read this?" Crennick asked the enforcer, and got a terse nod in return. "Send half my strength immediately to Whitevale, but double my personal guard and watch patrols." He raised a hand to quell any protest. "Tell Arius nothing in reply. I don't want any messages being intercepted."

Crennick, his crow feet eyes consuming the last of the text, tossed the parchment onto the empty breakfast platter, where it slowly soaked up the grease. So. Storm Veritas would soon be dead, or worse imprisoned somwehere horrible like Terrinore Isle. He felt no sadness for the loss of the electromancer, as he hadn't for the Telgradian. His lips curled into a wide smile. By allowing Shinsou and Storm to overthrow the council, and then subsequently get themselves taken out, the pair had unwittingly paved the way for a new Brotherhood entirely.

Today was the day the true Castigars would be born.